In the Cards
by HalloweenQueen
Summary: Sorry it took sooo long! School work is 1!. ch. 13 up! please RR!
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1  
The hollow and the horseman have an inseparable relationship.  
  
I couldn't much stand living with the idea of living with my mother's uncle. This whole distancing strategy that I had been trying on my nanny had defiantly not been working. She had done every thing in her power to tern me to the light side. Of course who could blame her and anyway she had promised my mom that she could take care of me. The loopy old bat in question lived at 302 Selmans street in the equally outrageous city of Greensburg Georgia. She was a dear old thing. Nanny always wore a bright colored scarf over her perm and she carried with undue dignity a hand bag that reminded me of a beach bag. This hand bag was of the finest scrap of leather that any oriental had the privilege to paint beige. Not to mention it was studded with genuine plastic pearls imported from Mexico, that oh so distant desert land of the uncouth, as Nanny liked to put it. My nanny had the rare ability to bring to life all that was strange. I spent most of my time during the summer at the barbers shop on east and main. I came home one afternoon at four my usual time. Nanny was in the front parlor with a lady that came about twice a week for advice. So I steered clear toward the kitchen and fixed myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and settled down to wait for the consultation to end. Ten minuets later I heard the front door close and the lady walking down the front steps. Nanny called me into the parlor. Obeying I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror down the hall. I had the shortest hair of any girl in the neighborhood. Nanny had always made sure that I kept my hair short. She didn't want me to leave any stray locks lying around for a voodoo witch to pick up. I also had high cheek bones and fair hazel eyes that struck people dumb when they looked me in the face. Nanny sat in her squishy high backed chair wrapped in a neon green shawl. She spoke first. "You know Charlotte your mother had some relatives in upstate New York." "Yeah, My great Aunt and Uncle Lorain and Richard Greer. They're Yankees all the same Nanny." "You aint wrong there.' She laughed "they are your legal guardians now though since you turning eighteen an' all" I stopped my study of the street below the front window and turned to look at her. She sat there in her chair and peered kindly at me over her beaded rim glasses. I stared back sure that my gaze held some piercing quality. Nanny didn't even flinch. I knew she wouldn't. She smiled and lent forward. "Come and sit Charlotte. There is something I need to do for you before you go anywhere." I moved over to the small stool opposite her and sat down. I was slightly confused though she had never given me advice from the cards before. I said nothing and watched as she shuffled the deck. There was something going on this was an important and serious reading of the tarot. Nanny finished her shuffling and set the deck. Slowly she began to draw cards. The first card was the White Knight sign of truth and strength. The second was the Virgin purity and love. The third and final card was the horseman of the apocalypse the ultimate symbol of death. Nanny seemed confused and slightly flustered. "Charlotte my child I fear you have a hard journey ahead of you. My advice is to keep your wits and never fall to fear." Nanny looked up from the cards to my face and smiled a knowing smile "You will survive" I just nodded and took her advice to heart. That night I packed my bags and started on my way to New York. Nanny promised to keep in touch she even saw me off at the bus station.  
  
Chapter 2  
Darkness draws near to Light  
  
I never thought I would ever come to hate something as stupid and undeserving of attention as a bus. Thirteen and a half hours riding on the interstate. I thought I was going to die of sheer boredom. I didn't but I came very close to a coma going through Pennsylvania. It got colder as we moved farther north I had to pull out my school sweatshirt. Once I got it on I was fine. Of course there just had to be a really annoying brother and sister that kept making fun of my accent. I just ignored them and stared out of the window at the geography. It was some where around two in the afternoon when we finally stopped at Tarrytown. I got up gingerly from my seat. My muscles were stiff as boards. Grabbing my onboard duffel I made my way to the front of the Greyhound. I met the eyes of the driver in the rearview mirror. Needless to say he quickly glanced away like he had received a cornea burn. I struggled down the steps with my duffel and got my trunk and suit case. I sneezed. The air defiantly smelt different here. 


	2. the real ch 2

I drug my trunk through the bus station to the front entrance where I saw a rather elderly gentleman who looked as if he was in a total state of confusion. My great uncle, lord bless him. My uncle looked about at the other people in the station and finally his weathered blue eyes came to rest on me. I met those eyes. He blinked as if he had been shocked by something that tended to run on electricity. "Charlotte! My dear niece, how are you? Was the trip alright? Let me help you with those bags." All I was able to get in was a 'Hi Uncle Greer. Thanks' He talked nonstop from us putting the trunk, duffel and such in the back of his red Chevrolet pickup to the main intersection halfway through sleepy hollow which was a good thirty miles from Tarrytown.  
  
The town was small about the same size as Greensburg. Tall oaks and maples lined the streets and cats and dogs could be seen at random. Uncle Greer took me by the school to register for the semester. It was a public high school it was kind of big and imposing. Design and building material seemed to date back to the fifties or earlier. Even in the middle of summer the combined appearance of brown brick ivy and high black windows gave me the chills. I noticed the football and baseball fields. They were well kept and I could make out the janitor painting on the yard lines. Once in side the cold halls echoed ominously to our footsteps. The office was just off the main hall. At the front desk was a stuffy looking secretary typing away on a computer. My uncle introduced me and gave her all of the necessary information anything he didn't know I filled in. The secretary, a Mrs. Persimmon, eyed me suspiciously. She had the sourest expression when I spoke up. I could just imagine what I looked like. Some off the street punk with short hair no doubt. When we had finally finished Greer headed for the house. My uncle's house was on the far side of town almost completely isolated on a hill. Nearby were the Hudson River and a creek called the pontaco. The house was really big. Slate blue exterior and great sweeping Dutch eaves seemed to have grown out of the ground. It looked perfect surrounded by the huge oak trees. I grabbed my stuff and crunched across the gravel driveway. Aunt Lorain helped me inside with my luggage. She took me too a room on the upper floor. It over looked the Hudson and had a trellis with ivy directly beneath it. After unpacking I fell onto my new bed and went straight to sleep.  
  
In the morning, or after noon I should say because it was almost twelve o'clock, I took a shower and got dressed. I wore my 'Schroeder' t-shirt and a pair of jeans and some timberland hiking boots. Uncle Richard had left on some sort of business trip early that morning and aunt Lorain had left a note saying she had gone into town to get her hair done. I poked around the cupboards in the kitchen. Nothing even slightly nutritious for my age group. Hmmm. Aha! Town was just three quarters of a mile down the road. I decided that was where I would be going. I jotted a few words on a paper and left it on the table in the foyer. Then I set of down the two lane highway. The gravel was distinctly grayish and rough. I looked around at the trees that bordered the road these woods were down right eerie looking. They gave me chills. It was like there was something in them that could see me but was invisible. On into town I spotted what looked to be like a local favorite the Headless Horseman Café. I went in and ordered a plate of chicken strips with fries on the side and a large cherry coke. In a booth not far from the front window sat a girl with frizzy red hair and pale skin dotted by freckles. She caught my eye and motioned for me to sit with her. I smiled and sat down with a thank you. She introduced herself as Becca Pratt a local. She was my age and seemed to like the same subjects and books. "So what's your name?" "Oh, it's Charlotte Steeple." "Where are you from, exactly?" she asked sharing my plate of French fries. "Greensburg, Georgia. My Nanny raised me so I never knew my parents." "Oh. That's too bad." Becca said sympathetically. "What was your Nanny's name?" "Antoinetta van Guard. It's a strange name." Becca's eyes got really large "you mean the Mystic Antoinetta?" "Yeah how do you know she is a mystic?" I said. Becca grinned "She is my grand mother." I was shocked. I swear I probably looked like a gold fish with my mouth hanging open like that. Then came the giggles. I just couldn't stop laughing. 


	3. the headless what!

I stayed with Becca until it was almost dark. She had shown me around town and had introduced me to some of her friends. I waved goodbye and started up the road to my uncle's house. The sun glowed through the dark foliage of the trees and shed crimson on every thing it could. A cold wind swept by me and I looked to the north. Dark clouds, they seemed to hold something more fearsome than rain or thunder. I studied them a minuet longer, the wind blew by me again. I frowned at the trees. Well nothing to be gained here. Trudging through a less dense pat of the back yard I found myself at the river. I cautiously made my way on the bank to an outcropping of boulders. Climbing on top I looked up river at a huge gray nothing. I shivered. It had gotten cooler sense I was on the road it was almost twilight now. The fog seemed to twist in on itself then spread. It was already reaching into the trees and hills along the Hudson. Narrowing my eyes I nodded Yup time to go inside. I clambered off the rocks and made my way through the trees once more. All the while I wondered about the unnatural fog it was kind of creepy, really. Inside, I went to the kitchen and made myself a ham and cheese sandwich with a side of kosher dills. I sat at the table and began to eat. My caretakers wouldn't be home till eight or so. At least that's what the message on the answering machine said. I was fine with that I liked being on my own. I finished my sandwich and casually looked out the back door and nearly chocked the yard was completely covered in fog. Wow. That was awful quick. Hmmm. I grabbed Uncle Greer's radio and headed for the bathroom. I set it on the counter and let it play on a local station. The DJ said that this was the most peculiar fog that sleepy hollow had seen in fifty years. After a shower I went upstairs to get some sleep. Spending half the day with Becca walking all over sleepy hollow had been rough. I contemplated the curious fog that surrounded the house and crept through the woods of sleepy hollow as I surrendered to sleep.  
  
I ran as fast as I could through the trees. The forest seemed endless. I stopped long enough to call out to some one who was in the trees. Hidden. Somewhere. But where?! Where! I ran on looking as I did. I strained my eyes searching around endless columns of tree trunks. I just had to find them I just had to. I had to find that some one I had to find.Him.  
  
I jerked bolt upright and smacked my head simultaneously on the ceiling. Bellowing something fierce in Latin I jumped out of bead and scrambled downstairs for an ice pack from the freezer. I startled Aunt Lorain who had been making coffee. She was dressed in a light blue house coat and had on pink fuzzy slippers and hair curlers. "Mercy child what's the matter? Are you all right?" Ignoring her I snatched open the freezer grabbed an ice pack slapped it on my forehead and slumped into a chair at the table. All in record time. "Sounds pretty freaky to me.", said Becca "Did it hurt when you hit your head?" "No, I happen to like getting bruises!" I said holding up my bangs to reveal a great purple spot on my forehead. "Goodness, Charlotte. It's a wonder you didn't get a concussion." She whispered in awe of the spot. "Yeah. I know. My Aunt said the same thing. Wanted me to go to the hospital to have it checked out." I sighed as we entered the 24 store and gas station on the corner of Banks and Crane St.  
  
".and took off like a runaway train that demon horse just a screamin' like a Fury. I tell ya there's bad dealing's goin' on in the Hollow these days. Real bad." the old man who had been telling this narrative leaned back in his chair as if awaiting a verdict. His features were stony and rough with unshaven stubble and unkempt white hair for garnish. I looked him over and looked back at Becca. She motioned me away from the old men and said "that's old man Spickler. He lives on a private road not far from the cemetery. Some say he's crazy." "Oh."  
  
"So do you really think the Galloping Hessian's back for blood, Spickler?" asked one man. I raised my eyebrows at this. "Yeah. You could have just dreamt the whole thing." Said another. Spickler responded "Say what you will but that fog we had was awful real and I'm tellin' you he was real too!" I inclined my head and looked to Becca. "What do you say?" I asked her. She gave Spickler a critical glance. "Stranger things have happened in the Hollow before." I too looked at Old man Spickler "So. That's a yes." 


	4. jeepers creepers

Author's note: this chapter is dedicated to Ben. Who was good enough to read "the fifth horseman" by Gregg Gonzales.  
  
A week passed and school started. Becca introduced me to her best guy friend, Thomas Smithers. He was like a total Chemistry buff.  
  
The three of us met at the headless horseman café after school. Sightings of the midnight marauder persisted. The police claimed that it was the work of over active imaginations and local pranksters. But Becca, Tom, and I had our suspicions. The chances of it being local pranksters were pretty slim. All of the sightings had taken place on the west side of town not far from the old cemetery. Strange really.  
  
"Downright creepy is more like it!" I said looking back and forth between Becca and Tom. Tom gave me a severe look. "Stop exaggerating. These sightings are probably nothing more than an elaborate hoax. Probably a group of junior high kids." I frowned across the table at him. Nothing should be left unconsidered in my opinion. It sounded stupid even to me but having a gut feeling when you have strived many years to keep an open mind seemed to overrule dear Tommy's micro chip brain. Becca cleared her throat and Tom and I ceased our battle of wills. "You both have good points. Tom's right about not jumping to conclusions, Charlotte, but we do need to keep our options open." She explained diplomatically. I leaned back in the booth and nodded my head. "Yes. You're right Becca as usual." Tom expressed his agreement. I stared out of the café window and watched as the street lamps glowed to life. They splashed the pavement with orange like tint. It vaguely reminded me of Mardi Gras.  
  
An hour and two Pepsis later we all said our goodbyes. Becca had Tom walk her home since they lived on the same block. It was four streets over from city hall in the middle of a kind of suburban area of town. I, however, was not as fortunate. My way home was completely opposite theirs and the quickest way, Becca had shown me a few days before, just happen to run by the old Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. I slowly made my way up the street and turned onto yet another small highway that went through town. The road curved sharply at this point and broad sided the cemetery. Its walls were out of gray granite most likely set up during the late 1700's. Patches of green moss grew at intervals adding to the wall's character. The old Dutch church sat on a kind of hill top white and pure as if it were one of Heaven's angels guarding the dead like a shepherd guards his flock. The wind sighed suddenly in the large oaks just beyond the wall. It made me shiver in spite of myself. Still it shook me out of my reverie and I became more alert. It was a warm night but I couldn't get rid of the cold hard feeling in my stomach. I was nearing the main gate now just twenty or so feet away. A slight breeze blew down the street from the Hudson, which was about a mile and a half ahead and to the left. The sweet scent of the river made me smile. Suddenly the Cemetery's wrought iron gates burst open with a thunderous crash. I'll admit I nearly fainted. Nothing came through them. They just swung on their hinges from the force of opening like that. I stood stock still and contemplated my next move. I could run or scream or scream while running. Then again Nanny raised no cowards. I cracked my knuckles and swung my self up and over the five foot wall. I landed with a soft thud and quickly got my bearings. I decided to stay off of the gravel paths seeing as that one could hear you clear across the cemetery with all of that crunching and grinding. There was a bit of a moon out now and I could see nearly as good as I usually do in normal lighting. Sneaking from tree to tree I made it up to the grounds around the Dutch church. I had seen nothing stir and heard nothing apart from normal night time noises. Still something didn't feel quite right about this cemetery. I slowly stood from my crouched position behind a head stone. I was on the side of the hill behind the church and I looked about at the graves below and beside me. The moon was really out now and it threw into sharp relief my shadow and those of the graves surrounding me. I turned to study my shadow and a flash of light caught my eye in the trees further down and behind the church. I hit the ground on instinct and the crack of a pistol disturbed the quiet night. Something sparked as it ricocheted off a stone marker not far from where I had been standing. I quickly turned to look at the spot where I had seen the flash. A person on horseback calmly walked out of the shadows pistol in the air. The person most defiantly a man was gigantic as was his steed. His pistol was especially wicked looking being a combination of short sword and flintlock. The horseman cocked his gun and readied for another shot. I scrambled up and behind a large monolith and as I peeked around it I wondered what Tom and Becca would make of this. There was another flash and a loud crack as the caped creep fired again. This time he chipped the marble directly above my head causing some bits to get in my hair. I took advantage of my adrenaline rush and sprinted as fast as I could around head stones and flower vases. I heard the horse give a shrieking cry and the sound of hoof beats and I knew I was in serious trouble. I started taking headstones hurdle style and was suddenly thankful I had worn my cotton shorts. My pursuer was gaining I could hear and practically feel the horses breath on my back. I was almost to the spot where I had jumped over the wall earlier. Getting a ridiculous idea I crouched down and stopped short. The horse, avoiding the obstacle, leapt over me. As rider reined in his mount I ran like the dickens. With my new strategy I zigzagged between the burial plots going further into the cemetery. I dared not look over my shoulder for I could track his progress by ear. I made my way up a knoll covered in mausoleums made of granite and marble. The horseman was getting fed up with chasing me. The silence was deafening both horse and rider had stopped. I doubled back behind a mausoleum only to run head on into the man. He sat huge and frightening atop his demon horse. His cape billowed in the wind and I took in the faded green of his outfit, but what I concentrated most on was the fact that he had no head. Just an empty collar. He wasn't but six feet away so there was no mistaking him for some suited up, pimple faced, thrill seeker. He drew his sword and we sized each other up. There was no way I was going to be able to out run him and he had was much taller and had more weapons than I did. Oh, and he was supposedly dead and therefore indestructible. Once again common sense eluded me. I cleared my throat stood strait and marched defiantly down the hill towards the main gate. The Horseman was thoroughly confused by this new tactic. Apparently he had never seen a very tired and angry southerner. He allowed me to get two thirds of the way to the gate before charging after me, sword gone but at full throttle. I don't know what possessed me but I didn't run, didn't flinch, or even scream as the Horseman swooped up behind, grabbed me about the waist, and lifted me up onto the saddle. The last I remembered, before I passed out, was how fast I was going on that godforsaken horse. 


	5. Sherlock Reincarnate

Old man Spickler watched from his window as the events in the Sleepy Hollow graveyard unfolded. That idiot girl had let her curiosity get the better of her as she had wandered into the cemetery and into a trap. What proceeded was what could only had been described as a peculiar cat and mouse game. He did have a little trouble deciding which of the two the cat was and which was the mouse. It seemed that little southern girl had the Hessian going for a minuet. Eventually, the Hessian won out, abducting the brave girl from the battle field. Spickler sighed as the Horseman vanished into a bank of fog and shook his head. He only hoped that the girl would not have to suffer terribly before she died. He phoned the police and told them what he had seen and gave a description of the girl, which appeared in the paper the next day.  
  
Becca and Tom couldn't believe it. On the front page, "Headless Horseman Abducts Local Girl". "Poor Charlotte", Becca moaned. "I can't believe it. Why would he want to kidnap Charlotte?" Tom shrugged "Beats me I thought he only decapitated people 


	6. A fight to remember

I woke up with a migraine. It hurt worst than when I slammed my head into the ceiling. My wrists were tied behind my back and my left foot was chained to the tree I was lying against. I looked through the pain in my head at my surroundings. I was in the woods, trees and boulders all around me. A lovely little camping trip "And me without my underwear" I said out loud. The sun had started to set and the shadows in the trees grew darker and more threatening. When it got almost completely dark I heard the distinct sound of hoof beats. They echoed through the woods which gave them a haunting effect. The sound grew louder and louder until a great black horse charged into the clearing. Its rider pulled the horse up high on its legs a huge cape billowing majestically. My heart quickened its pace but I was in too bad of a mood to be scared. He was the primary cause of my splitting head ache and I wasn't just going to let him get away with that. He dismounted and set about building a fire. Once it was a blazing five feet tall he crunched over the leaves towards me. He stood very tall, probably six feet. Unsheathing a dagger he bent down and cut the ropes that bound my hands. A very stupid thing to do.  
  
Poor Horseman, he had probably never gone head to head, so to speak, with a pissed off southern belle. As soon as my hands were free I lunged at him. He hit the ground hard and I was on top of him punching and ripping as much of him up as I could. The chain that had held me to the tree broke at some point. The Hessian tried to pin me down a couple of times, but I wouldn't have it. I bucked and kicked like a wild mule he let me go then and I got up and tried to run. The dirty dog grabbed me by the ankles and made me fall flat on my face. It gave me a busted lip and he was going to answer for it. I rolled on my back and kicked my foot free. When he reached for me again I got him square in the chest. I got up and ran as fast as I could then. I ran through the trees trying to find a creek or stream that would lead me to the Hudson. The horseman was after me on horseback now. He thundered after me smashing through underbrush and small trees. I finally found a fairly big stream and I followed it, running along the bank. I rounded a bend and saw a bridge and I new that I must be on the Pontaco. I could hear the horseman on the other side of the creek in the woods. The bank was steep but I climbed up it and sprinted down the paved road that ran in front of the Old Dutch Church, horse and rider not far behind. With an agility that I could not have mustered under normal circumstances I swung my self sideways over the white picket fence of the churchyard and dashed into the church. I pretty much gave the reverend a heart attack. He was sitting at the pulpit studying for his sermon the following day. The good reverend took one look at my bloodied appearance and asked if I needed any assistance and if he should call the police. I went to the southern window and shook my head. "It wouldn't help anyone, he's cut the phone lines." I said motioning to the dark specter, who was galloping back and forth through the graveyard. "Good heavens, I thought he was just legend." The preacher said aghast. I nodded my eyes fixed on the galloping figure. "Let's move away from the windows we will be safe in here." I settled onto a pew to wait for the liberating dawn. The preacher sat behind the pulpit again and would randomly quote verses. It wasn't long though before I was lulled to sleep by the sound of hoof beats. 


	7. concrete angel

The horseman had vanished sometime early that morning leaving behind a very hectic looking cemetery. The sod around the churchyard had been torn up and a few of the gravestones had been vandalized. The air held an unnatural chill as I was awakened by the minister. A thick mist surrounded the church and the whole of old Sleepy Hollow.  
  
Lieutenant Barry Moore, of fifteen years on the police force, slowly drove through the early morning fog. The weather had been quite unusual as of late he had to agree. The abnormally thick fog that gripped the small town did not appear until the late winter. And stranger still was that the conflicting cold fronts that caused such horrible conditions were absent from the charts. The lieutenant turned his squad car onto the old highway that ran on the edge of town. He glanced to either side of the road, trying with all of his mortal might to pierce through the obtrusive mist. He came upon the great curve in the highway that straitened and ran parallel the biggest graveyard in Sleepy Hollow. The Old Sleepy Hollow cemetery ran at just over eighteen acres and the many paths and trees made it seen all the more huge. Nobody ever went there. Only families who hadn't already filled their burial plots entered its wrought iron gates. Barry hated to look at it on his rounds. The trees sat large and threatening with black twisted limbs and the ancient granite wall seemed like the rusted bob wire fences at POW camps. As he hastily drove by he glanced up at the church. It was surrounded by fog but was not covered in it like the other buildings in town. Barry looked closer to see to his shock that the power pole to the church had been chopped down and lay in a ruin of splinters on the pavement. He immediately called for back up. Ten minuets later the Sleepy Hollow Chief of Police strode about the church yard examining the vandalized markers. He did all of this calmly as if he already knew the cause and the criminal of the damage. I looked on in grim silence at his efforts. Aunt Lorain and Uncle Richard had run to my side when the police had called them and told them I was safe. They never went more than three feet from me and Aunt Lorain kept her arms tightly around my shoulders. I have to admit I was in a sort of mental shock from the whole fiasco. First it was running from the horseman in the graveyard then it was ultimate wrestling 101 and finally a jolly little sprint through the woods to the fragile safety of a church. Yep. My kind of night. The Chief walked over to us and tried to question me. I had, unfortunately, assumed the identity of the deaf and dumb. My eyes were fixed on the ground at a spot only a few yards away where a concrete angel miniature's smashed pieces lay strewn across the ground. I knew that angel's fate had been meant for me. This realization turned my insides cold. My uncle, the noble hound that he was, scolded the chief on questioning me and instead asked after the chief's advice on my well being and safety regarding the events of late. The chief apologized and then gave my uncle his professional opinion, which was that I should remain at home and never be without a chaperone at school or in public. Let me tell you, I was not very keen on the whole chaperone idea but rules are rules.  
  
My aunt and uncle took me home and kept me inside for a week. They even sent out for a doctor to give me a physical. Now there was an adventure. He checked me everywhere from head to toe, and I mean everywhere. The following week when I had passed inspection I was allowed to go back to school. The first day back I ran into the cutest guy on the football team, Henry. He immediately took an interest in me which was more than I could say for him. The other girls around school were all terribly jealous. After biology Henry offered to give me a ride home. I told him that I would love it if he would be so kind. At three o' clock I met him in the parking lot by his 2002 F-150. He helped me with my backpack and asked me where I lived. I gave him directions as we passed through town and he kept up a constant conversation that turned out to be quite humorous. He smiled at me when I told him about the night when I escaped from the Horseman. "Boy, you southern girls sure know how to handle guys!" he laughed running a hand threw his sandy blonde curls. His eyes were a happy blue and his face was nothing but good humored. Like I said, he was the cutest guy on the football team. When we got to my house he introduced himself to my uncle and volunteered as my official chaperone. Uncle Richard was so happy that he let Henry stay for dinner. Pork chops, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Oh my! Henry was the star of the dinner table. His boyish charm delighted my aunt and uncle and with his perfect smile completely won them over. Finally the time for goodbyes rolled around at about nine thirty. Henry shook hands with Uncle Richard and I walked with him to his truck. When my aunt and uncle went inside he turned to me with another charming smile. "Well good night, Miss Charlotte." He swiftly bent down to my demure five foot four and pecked me affectionately on the cheek. I was too stunned to do much of anything accept gape after him as he pulled out of the drive. For a moment I stood in the front yard and contemplated my situation. I was not ignorant of the book by Washington Irving. And to me this seemed stunningly close to Katrina Van Tassel's relationship with Brom Van Brunt. The only question was where was Ichabod? I stood a moment longer in the peaceful silence of the trees that surrounded the century old house. Then reluctantly I went back into the warm glow of the living room and kitchen to help with the dishes. I never knew that my little scene of affection with Henry had been watched from the shadows of the trees by unearthly eyes.  
  
The following days seemed a little more exciting than the previous weeks. I had pretty much gotten caught up with all of my school work. My teachers soon gave me respect in the terms of above average student. Just because I was southern did not mean I was in anyway inferior to the others at school. Some were even curious about my hometown and asked me if I lived on a plantation and grew cotton for a living. To these I gave polite but firm answers in the negatory. Florida had its oranges; Alabama had its peanuts and general helter skelter agriculture; Georgia had its peaches simple as that. Good ol' Georgia how I missed it. In early September the temperature would still be in the upper eighties. Here in upstate New York the trees changed earlier and with more decisiveness than in the Deep South, where the main sources of shade came from the sacred southern pine. The colors that began to form in the little Hudson Valley were beyond my powers of description. I continued to see Henry every day at school and when I wasn't with my friends Becca and Tom on weekends which was rare but did happen. Sightings of the horseman grew more frequent as the days passed. The dark knight began to pull pranks almost nightly as evidence of his tirade. The police still believed in the cause as local pranksters warming up for the Halloween season only two months away. It was only when the late night activities became more violent in nature did they look into more gruesome options, such as it all being gang related. The so called violent actions were when an elderly woman found her nine cats strung up in a tree in her front yard, their name tags in alphabetical order. Another was when all of the cars on Greystone St. had all of their tires popped, windows smashed in and hoods and tops demolished. The police department discounted the hoof prints found on lawns and nearby flower beds as part of a hoax. Becca, Tom and I were all the more convinced of the headless horseman's factual existence, my late night first hand encounter aside. We often sat together at lunch and discussed the possibilities and motives of the Headless Rider. Tom analyzed the physical evidence while Becca swore to a huge psychic disturbance in the energies in and around the Hollow. I took both views and harmonized them into a somewhat accurate Picasso of what was going on. What I saw was not good. We still had no idea as to the why of the Hessian's return. I never went out by myself except into my own yard. My aunt and uncle had calmed down somewhat and let me stay with friends till after dark. Which was good since the fall festival was coming up soon. In three days to be exact. It was to be my first all nighter in about a month, so I was very excited. Henry had promised to meet me there. Becca Tom and I agreed to meet three hours earlier so that we all could get some down time. 


	8. we meet again

The fall festival was held on the football field at school and nearly everybody came. There were games and concession stands and arts and craft tables. Strings of lights illuminated the small town carnival. Scarecrows stood at attention with gleeful sentinels of jack-o-lanterns. Our threesome managed to do just about everything of interest. I won at knocking over milk bottles and dunking the English teacher clown, Mr. Klinss, into a vat of water. After our fourth round of the cake walk Henry meets up with us. He escorted me to the far side of the field where his friends, the rest of the football team and the cheerleaders, were waiting. I pretty much ignored the local pop culture in favor of more interesting things, like dirt. Henry walked me around introducing me to everybody. The head cheerleader, Bethany Wren, stood all the while in an isolated group with her closest girlfriends. I had no doubt she had a cute little doll of me with pins stuck in it on her dresser. She was like that, perfect teeth, long strait blonde hair, brown eyes and an imposing figure of five foot nine. Henry was oblivious to Bethany, which made her scowl all the more at me. I managed to sneak away from Henry and I cautiously went around the bleachers to the back of the press box. There I paced back and forth and stopped occasionally to glance out at the football field or at the trees. Neither of which offered me any comfort. Both were enemies in my minds eye. One held the warm glow of social conflict while the other held a cold fearful unknown. I thought out both sides and what each had to offer and then followed up with the realization of much needed therapy. I shook my head and chided myself on the poor management of the mental scales. At least I could go back home early and call it a night. That defiantly had an appealing ring to it. I turned on my heels and marched back onto the field and to Henry's side. "Where've ya been, Charlotte?" he asked jovially. "Oh, no where. There was a horrible line at the bathroom." I lied. "Oh. Okay." He smiled. I casually steered him away from his friends. "Henry? Can we go home? I'm kind of tired." I asked pleadingly. He looked down at me in kind of confused expression. "Sure, Charl. I thought we were having fun? But if you want to go we can don't get me wrong." "Oh I know Henry. Was there something else you wanted to do?" "Well after this I wanted to take you by Patriot Park. Its very nice this time of year." he said sheepishly. I smiled up at him. "Of course, Henry. I love the colors. We hardly get some of them in the south." We walked on to the truck joking and laughing all of the way. The drive was just as nice. The park was located on the west side of town not very far from the cemetery. It was quite spacious, with one side backed by the Hudson, one by the cemetery, one the public road and the other by private property, which I was surprised to find, belonged to my uncle. Henry walked me into the park on the main path. It bee lined to a picnic area and turned sharply into the dense foliage of the hiking paths. We sat on the picnic tables and I looked out over the park. "Do you really think we should be here by ourselves?" I asked nervously "What with the Horseman and all." Henry looked me in the face and smiled with his prize winning grin. "Never fear fair maiden I shall protect thee from that black hearted knave!" I had to laugh at that. Sweet Henry he really knew how to make you laugh. I looked around the park again. The trees stood like dark specters in the night. The moon was at a good ways full and so cast silver on every thing from the tables where we sat to the far off Hudson barely visible through some bushes. I looked back at Henry, who was staring at the ground, obviously thinking about something. Finally he stirred from his reverie. He looked around himself, blinked and moved closer to me. Before I knew it his arm was around my shoulders. He never moved from that position so I leaned in on his chest. I was very tired. I began to fiddle with a ring on my hand. It had been my sixteenth birthday present from Nanny. It was white gold and was set with a perfect piece of bloodstone. I did on occasion wear my primary birthstone, aquamarine, but I liked the way bloodstone seemed to have a character all its own. The back of my hand itched. As I scratched it my skin started to prickle all over. I had begun to get that back of your neck feeling of being watched. I sat up strait startling Henry. I glared into the surrounding darkness for a sign as to who was out there. The wind shifted slightly and my senses were struck by a strangely familiar smell. It gave me goose bumps. I turned my head slowly to face the wind and suddenly understood my prickly skin and goose flesh. Not more than thirty yards off, in the protection of the trees, stood a lone figure on horseback. We locked "eyes" and in that brief second I took him all in. The horse was huge and coal black, the horseman's uniform was a faded green and the tattered cape that hung lifelessly was trimmed with a faded crimson. Sword, pistol, and stirrups glittered in the moonlight as did the buckles on his black boots. He sat perfectly still as if he were only a figment of my imagination but I knew better. After the moment of identification had passed I jumped up, grabbed Henry by the arm and began to run back to the truck. Henry recognized the threat just as the Horseman spurred his horse into action and sprinted with the speed of the star quarterback that he was. I, having not been blessed with the same long legs as Henry, fell behind. I had out run the horseman before but that was in heavily wooded areas where agility not speed won out. Here in the, for the most part open, park being on horseback defiantly gave you the upper hand. I made a sudden turn around a big oak a speed to the densely wooded hiking paths. Splitting up was the best thing to do. Running in the same direction made Henry and I easy targets. Plus, the horseman would have to choose and that mental process would take a millisecond that would mean escape. Henry being a star sprinter would have the best lead and an easier time of it. Then came the crushing disappointment as I heard the Horseman scrape against the bark of the tree as he wheeled his mount after me. Should've known. At that point I plunged into the relative, I won't say safety because there was none with him right behind me, slowing abilities of the trees. Branches slapped at my face and thorny vines ripped at my clothes as I ran but I dared not slow down. I could hear him crashing through the underbrush after me. I soon reached the edge of the park where stood a rusted chain link fence. I vaulted this with deer like fleetness. Now I was on my uncle's land the underbrush thinned as I began to recognize different land marks. I raced on in the direction of home horse and rider gaining. The trees suddenly lit and the crack of a pistol sounded behind me. The bullet ricocheted off a large boulder in front of me. It startled me so that I tripped over my own feet and fell. With a cry of pain I hit the hard ground. As I tried to scramble up the horseman reined in his horse and successfully backed me against the huge boulder. Even in my fear I glared at him. He dismounted and knelt in front of me with one hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming. With the other he began touch my face in an almost tender manner. In response I bit down on the first hand. He did not even strike me he only ceased to touch my face. After a moment he sort of signed if I would be quiet, I nodded yes. He slowly pulled back his gloved hand. "Hessian?" I asked. He responded to the affirmative. "What do you want?" he didn't respond. "Is it Henry, the boy?" he waved his hand, no. I was almost afraid to ask. "Me?" he straitened his posture. Yes. Oh boy. "Why?" I asked defiantly. His only answer was to pick me up and remount on that demon horse. I made an easy target last time it was not going to happen again. I struggled and elbowed him and tried to fall off, but he restrained me till I was spent and could do nothing more than curse at him.  
  
I could swear beautifully when I had occasion to. I had learned from the little boy who I used to see at the barber's shop. His name was Allen. The Hessian seemed quite surprised as I kept up the stream of insults. I looked around puzzled as we stopped. I had been so busy defacing both sides of his family that I didn't notice where we were going. It turned out to be my front yard, which was a bit surprising since I thought he was going to kill me. He slid me off of the horse and I began to back away. He pulled the stallion high on its back legs then took off at full gallop back into the woods. I was so numb from the whole experience that I just went up to my room and lay in bed but I dared not sleep. 


	9. medusa and the devil bag

What I did the following morning could only have been described as lunacy. Of course seeing as I had been chased through Patriot Park by a headless rider from the depths of hell, that hadn't killed me, and stayed up all night in mental shock, I thought I was being pretty rational. As soon as it was dawn and I could be sure the afore mentioned horseman was a good six feet under, I went, ran really, to Becca's house. Apparently she had had a rough night herself, because when she opened the door I noticed circles under her eyes and her normally slightly frizzy hair had turned into something resembling the ill fortuned Medusa. Her eyes brightened when she saw me and she smiled widely. "I'm so glad you made it Charlotte. We began to worry when you didn't come back with Henry. Couldn't sleep a wink." Becca said pulling me inside.  
  
She sat me down in the den and began a continuous stream of dialogue, during which she switched on the TV and surfed the channels. ".and Tom started this wild theory that the reason you never came back to the festival was that the Horseman got you." The mention of the horseman made me jump. Becca noticed and stopped, her thumb paused over the number 2. She gave me a sharp once over. I matched her emerald gaze with my cold blue gray one. The eyes faltered and I knew I had won. She recovered faster than I had hoped.  
  
"Charlotte something did happen last night! I'm you friend please tell me what happened." She begged. I hesitated. I wasn't exactly sure as to how to put this. To tell Becca that I had yet another visitation from the infamous commander-in-chief of spirits in Sleepy Hollow was going to be quite a leap for me. Becca took the hesitation for fear and made a most brilliant assumption. "It was Henry, wasn't it? Did he hurt you? Take advantage of you? That low down scum. Oooh. I'll make him wish he never was born." She was pacing the room at this point. Waving her arms like a mad woman and throwing random curses into the speech on the abomination that was Henry. I finally just gave her a look of such loathing that it stopped her dead in her tracks. Then I settled on a look of intense aggravation. Becca gained some of the color back in her face. "It wasn't Henry?" "No." I glared at the lamp next to me, "It was the Horseman." "Mercy! What did he do?" I looked at my hands. "Well for starters he chased me and Henry across Patriot Park. Then he decided to go after me instead of Henry and pretty much chased me into my back yard." "That's all? Didn't he try to kill you?" "Of course he did!" I was up on my feet now. I shot looks of pure disgust out the window at the bright sunny world that knew nothing of this badgering. Becca understood exactly how I felt. "I think I've got something that might help." She ran to the kitchen and came back with a handful of small white bags. "They're devil bags. The old people used them to keep the spirits away." I took one and smelled it. It reminded me of Mrs. Mosley's homemade chili and garlic dill pickles.  
  
Much, much, much later I went home after nearly gaining ten pounds on Blue bell homemade vanilla ice cream. There really is something therapeutic about guzzling two gallons of ice cream with your best friend. I felt great and I put the devil bag in an airtight zip lock freezer bag, for save and non lethal keeping.  
  
I walked around down town enjoying the life giving sunshine and lack of all things tall dark and sinister. I decided to try out this devil bag thing on the most evil creature known to man that walked in daylight. Old Mrs. Grangers Doberman a.k.a. "Cuddles". I slowly made my way up the street and picked up a sizable limb from a neighbor's trash pile, just in case. I came up to Mrs. Granger's yard and whistled shrilly. Sure enough here come Cuddles, bounding around the corner of the house with thoroughbred speed. I whipped out the devil bag and held it out. Cuddles didn't get within three feet before he lit out howling. Poor fellow was in such a rush that he banged his head trying to get under the porch. Satisfied I went on home and hung the bag from one of the rafters.  
  
That night there was a dreadful howling to be heard through out Sleepy Hollow. The wind started up and blew the trees around so that I thought we might have been having a tornado. In fact my Aunt and Uncle turned on the scanner for weather reports. Sometimes I could pick out the screeching of a horse or the sound of hoof beats over the wind. The wind storm, as Becca, Tom and I knew, was the Horseman's doing. From that little temper tantrum it was easy to discern his future intentions. He obviously didn't like the idea of being kept out of my house before he could even get in. I went to my window and watched as he frenzied about the yard, every now and then dashing off into the woods or Sleepy hollow proper only to return and repeat his previous actions. My mere presence at the window taunted him so that I would smile with glee at his every rage filled move. It was his turn to feel helpless and I liked it. It served him right too. He had no business in my house or chasing me around town for that matter. I, southern belle that I was, was a gracious winner and only teased him for five hours before I went to bed with the sweet smell of victory, that that vaguely reminded me of homemade chili dill pickles. 


	10. sooo busted

I felt very cheerful the following morning. I guess it was because I didn't have to worry about that certain someone breaking in on me as I slept.  
We all went to Sunday services. Uncle Richard believed that attending would boost local morale, which it did. I was glad to go really. It gave me a chance to sneak around the cemetery.  
Becca and Tom showed up with their families and Becca caught my eye more than once during the service as to inquire about the Devil bag. I would grin and shrug then she would lean back in her pew, satisfied. It was rather hard to concentrate on the sermon. I kept feeling someone's eyes watching me; you know that back of the neck feeling. When the congregation was dismissed I headed over to an old oak where my friends stood waiting for me. A firm grip on my arm made me stop and turn to see Old man Spickler. He stood stony as ever, minus the usual stubble. I was about to say something but he stopped me and pulled me over to my friends. Tom and Becca shifted uneasily in Mr. Spickler's presence. He looked angry about something and we three could only guess what. "You three think yourselves to be pretty smart, eh?" he growled at us. We just looked at him. "Well I tell ye'. You aint and He knows it too. Come by later this evening while we got time. 'For there's killin's." and with that he released my arm and hobbled on towards his house at the edge of the cemetery. We exchanged confused and slightly frightened looks. After the way things were starting to get weird here, talking to Spickler didn't seem like such a bad idea. Needless to say we canceled our inner-cemetery expedition.  
  
Later on, after lunch we went over to Old man Spickler's. He showed us into the kitchen and we all sat around a pine board table. His home was in a somewhat disorderly fashion. It suited Spickler. I happened to glance around at the assorted knickknacks and figurines. They were all, as far as I could see, from the Revolution, Civil, and World wars. It sort of looked like he had either been on the battlefield taking them up from the very soldiers or had raided the Smithsonian in Washington. Becca had also taken an interest in the memorabilia; she sat staring at a picture of Gettysburg that hung over the refrigerator. Tom, a little more curious, was walking around the living room fiddling with different pieces of Spickler's collection. Mr. Spickler came from the pantry and sat at the table with a mug of strong coffee. Becca looked at it and wrinkled her nose. She hated coffee. I smirked; I found the scent of coffee relaxing so I didn't complain. Spickler noticed, "Old Colonial recipe. Best stuff in New York." I nodded "So. What's the deal?" I asked folding my arms on the table. Spickler drank some coffee. "Alright. Stop messing with the Horseman, Shortcake." I narrowed my eyes "It's Charlotte and what do you mean stop? He started it!" Spickler shook his head, "Don't matter. He's gonna try an' finish it. Just watch." I leaned back in my seat "I say let him try!" Becca gave me a look "Maybe we should listen, Charl." Here goes my really short temper. "Listen! If we did how, exactly, are we going to stop him? Its not like he's just going to quit on his own, you know." "You've got a point there, missy. I reckon he's after something. Any guesses as to what?" I didn't respond and looked at the table. Becca watched me with renewed interest. "Charl, what is he talking about?" I didn't answer. Spickler chuckled "Nothing to say there, missy? I thought not." He looked up. "Boy! What in the world are doin' put that down. It aint meant to be played with!" Becca and I looked at Tom who was holding a rather ancient Bugle with faded red and gold tassels. "What is it?" Becca asked. Mr. Spickler grumbled something before he answered. "It's a old bugle from a red coat officer." "Can I have it?" Tom spoke up still holding the horn. "I'll give you twenty for it." Spickler eyed him but finally agreed. We all left not long after. Becca questioned me nonstop about what Spickler had meant, while Tom looked over his new bugle. 


	11. Mission: Suicide

We had supper at the Café again I called Aunt Lorain and let her know. As I eased back in the squeaky old leather seat, I watched Tom, who was still examining that old horn. He seemed to be totally engrossed in it. Becca watched, too. She sat absently stirring her cup of hot chocolate. Directly she said, "What are we supposed to do?" I took a deep breath and leaned over the table, shaking my head as I did so, "Don't know. How do you stop a lunatic, German soldier, who has been dead for two hundred years?" "You got me there." She smirked halfheartedly. "Perhaps we don't have to stop it, just slow it down." Tom spoke up. Becca and I looked at him. "What do you mean 'slow it down'?" I asked, interested. Tom held out the bugle and looked at it thoughtfully. "This ghost thing whatever it is has its limits and sensibilities just like anything else does. I believe that close study of it could yield valuable information as to what its weaknesses are." "Okay, Einstein any ideas as to how we can get up close and personal to the headless horseman?" I asked crossing my arms. "Certainly. You'll do it." Neither Tom's face nor voice betrayed any emotion. I sat there too stunned to move, "you want me to go sneaking around the hollow, just so I can get my head chopped off? Are you crazy?!" "No, just inspired." He smiled, "Besides, you won't be going around the hollow. You'll go to his grave. And as for the head chopping I doubt it. The horseman seems to have an obvious attachment to you, since he hasn't killed you yet." I didn't know what to say to that. Becca looked between tom and I. Her eyes settled on me "Charlotte I think you should try it for all our sakes. We can't let this go on someone might get hurt or worse killed, just like Mr. Spickler said." I clenched my jaw shut and glared at both of them. There was no way that I was going on that fool's mission. It was suicide.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Suicide. That's what I'm doing." I thought as I made my way in the dark. After that heartfelt convincing, Becca called my Aunt and told her that I was spending the night. Tom had recommended a few things to take with me, so I wore a small backpack filled with various objects. A high power flashlight, glow stick, note pad and pencil, a modern map and a rather ancient one that Tom had photocopied at city hall. The older map showed Sleepy Hollow during the late 1700's and depicted several landmarks, like burial plots. It was kind of cloudy and the moon would appear about every other minute, causing every thing to shift from a dull gray to inky blackness. I had decided to follow the train tracks that led around the edge of town and closest to the burial sites on the map. The gravel base was a plus because nothing could sneak up on me in the dark. I walked as quickly as I could trying not to make too much noise. The moon blacked out suddenly and I mistepped. I grimaced as some of the gravel went sliding along with the loud clank of brass on my backpack. The dead had ears. The same reason Tom told me to carry the redcoat bugle. He said it would be the perfect way to lure out the horseman. I had to agree with him on that. That bugle would bring the horseman on the run sure enough, no doubt bout it. I just prayed that I could pull this off without having to use the bugle. The plan was, as far as I knew, to locate the grave, write down everything of interest about it then get the heck out of dodge. It was a stretch to be sure but Tom was confident that I could do it without the Hessian finding out. Now the thing about the bugle was that if I couldn't find the grave site I would sound the bugle, bring the Hessian bearing down on me, and somehow keep him in sight till dawn when he would go back to his grave. A great plan, ingenious, the only downside was that it made me look an awful lot like bait. I walked on down the train tracks keeping sharp ears for the slightest sound. It was a little breezy and dead leaves would rustle on either side of me, every so often, making the back of my neck prickle. I checked the maps when the moon was out; I didn't dare use light. I was making progress I was pleased to see. The tracks came from the south, in New York City, then made a great curving arc around Sleepy Hollow, crossing the river about three miles up then continued north on the western side of the Hudson. Grave sites, according to the older map, were clustered here and there on both sides of the tracks. I ruled most of them out because the horseman's activities seemed more or less centered around the Cemetery; it was also local legend that he had been buried in an older section of the graveyard. It wasn't long before I was near some sites that adjoined the backside of the cemetery. I struck off through the woods towards them. I soon got to one. It was still very dark and I could barely make out the stone markers. I cautiously turned on the flashlight and looked for tracks. I didn't see any. Disappointed I went on to the next site. Halfway there I stopped and listened. In the distance I could hear the clacking of horseshoes on pavement. The horseman must have been causing more of his usual trouble. I frowned, and then continued on. At the next group of markers, I likewise found no tracks. I rechecked the maps only to find that these were the only two places close enough to the cemetery. Frustrated, I shoved the maps back into the backpack and began to hike towards the cemetery. I guess the fear made me a little angrier than what I really was. I muttered very harsh words under my breath, with every intention of repeating them to Tom. I trudged through brambles and bushes not really looking where I stepped. When something caught my foot and I was suddenly pitched forward into a big person-sized hole. I struggled up only to realize that I was standing in a grave. I looked at what had caused my fall. It was a broken marble tombstone that protruded from the ground to about mid-calf. I got out of the grave started to look it over, shaking my head as I did so. What a metaphor. The Horseman was always making my life difficult. Part of the epitaph had been preserved and I read it with some difficulty. .ger Corps, a lieutenant Col. who's life ended in the Autumn of 1779. R.I.P. Well that explained a lot. A Hessian and Lieutenant Colonel to boot, no wonder he was so arrogant. A distant yell made me jerk with surprise. I quickly got up and ran in the direction of the yell, passing into the cemetery. The first thing I saw was the flashing lights of Barry Moore's police cruiser on the highway in front of the main gate. Barry was running down the street yelling and looking over his shoulder. I looked too and what I saw was bone chilling. The Headless Horseman was bearing down on Barry with incredible speed, saber held high with obvious intent to kill. I quickly fumbled for some way to help Barry. I picked up the bugle and prayed that it would work. I raised it to my lips and took an enormous breath, then began to hesitate. I shook off the feeling with the argument that this was an emergency. I put my mouth to the bugle and blew with all of my might. The horn boomed out over the cemetery with both a baritone and shrillness. The following scene was worthy of the cinema. The Horseman skidded to a stop, sword still held high. I blew again and he wheeled around, Barry the policeman forgotten. The Hessian charged into the graveyard in a direct bee line to where I stood. As soon as I saw that Barry was safe, I turned tail and ran back into the woods. I could hear the horseman crashing after me. I ran even faster and got onto the train tracks. I followed them north, ahead of me ran a trestle bridge over the Pontaco. I went as fast as I could stepping carefully on the crossties. The Horseman was hardly slowed down. The horse gave a shriek so loud that I slipped and went over the side. I barely caught one of the trestles. My legs were dangling in mid-air as I looked up at the horseman. Down below was the Pontaco itself with several huge and very hard looking rocks. The reins jostled and I looked back at the Hessian. He sat in the saddle and looked down at me. He slowly eased back in the saddle and dismounted. I started to prepare myself for the jump hoping that I wouldn't hit a rock. As if reading my mind he swiftly knelt down and grabbed my arm, pulling me onto the trestle. Remounting with me he rode back the way we had come and stopped in a group of mausoleums. He pulled me down and shoved me against a wall, keeping a firm grip on my throat. You horrid little wench. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now! I glared at him, "What are you talking about?" You are so infuriating. You do nothing but get in my way, he raged. You should talk. You almost killed that man and nearly sent me over the edge! Not to mention that you stalk me non-stop. What's wrong with you anyway? You know what I want, little on. Yeah, Yeah, We've been over this before. Not a snowball's chance in Hades. You and your friends are running out of time. So are you. Unless you haven't noticed we switched to daylight savings. Ahhh! Again you tempt me, child! Listen, Hessian. What's this really about? I don't have much time left. How do you mean? Soon they're going to try and exorcise me. I've heard their thoughts. Whose? The Priest's and the Squire's. Squire? Oh, the Mayor. Exorcism? When? In a fortnight. At least that is what they said. Somewhere during our conversation he had let go of my neck. I was free to run but didn't. I was silent a moment and looked at the ground. Thank you. For what? The bridge. Oh. You really didn't think that I could let my little one fall, did you? Okay, I take it back. You're really creepy. Why thank you. Does that make me more endearing to your heart? Not by a long shot. I looked around. I'll see what I can do. About the exorcism. I'm pretty sure that I know someone who can help us. With that parting word, I left the cemetery. The horseman stood as a lone figure on the hill. So he wanted my help? I resolved to do all that I could because he had already helped me. As I walked down the deserted street I realized that it was time to make along distance call to Greensburg Georgia. 


	12. dreams and discoveries

I turned out lucky as I entered The Three Georges bar and lounge. Not many people were there at two in the morning after a Sunday. I nodded to the bar tender and made my way to the pay phones at the back. Holding the receiver to my ear, I dialed for long distance and waited till someone answered. "Hello?" a groggy Nanny van Guard answered. I quickly told her the entire ordeal, leaving out a few choice parts. She was immediately interested. After a few short questions she said that she would come strait away and not to tell anyone that she was coming. Nanny assured me that she knew exactly what to do. We said our goodbyes and I left the bar heading home.  
  
The following day, when I met Tom and Becca, I avoided talking about the night before. Only when they asked me directly did I tell them. My story was that I looked a long while and found a possible grave but no sign of the Horseman. They believed me. Before noon I went home to sleep. My dreams were uncharacteristically violent that afternoon. I was charging across an endless battlefield, but I could never reach the proper enemy lines. There were several explosions and a lot of loud shouting. I felt that I should have died several times over. The bullets ripped into me but never slowed me down. I stood after dispatching one of the enemy and looked to my side. There stood a disheveled horseman who had paused in his own charge to look at me. His uniform was green with red trim and bright brass buttons glinted from the light of many fires. His hair, which was tied back in the usual style, was thick and very black. The horseman's face was well defined with high cheek bones and a strait aquiline nose, but nothing compared to the intensity of his eyes. They seemed to be every shade of blue. I was barely able to look away. I studied what I was wearing and was shocked to find that I was dressed in a redcoat's uniform, right down to the shine on the boots. Openmouthed I looked back at the horseman. He gave me a lopsided grin then mock saluted and rushed back into the endless battle. I stared after him. Suddenly, very tired I closed my eyes and the battle melted away to be replaced by the face of my caretaker of eighteen years.  
  
Nanny practically glowed at me from across the kitchen table. I gave her a critical eye and sighed into my cup of hot chocolate. "So glad you like the chocolate, Babe. It's an old recipe." "Really. What kind?" I asked. "German" I spluttered into the cup. I glared at her "Low blow, Nanny" Nanny just smiled at me. "Now dear, tell me about this chivalrous young knight of yours." My mouth dropped open, "He is not chivalrous and most defiantly not young!" "Hmm. I always thought that you would have something for the older, more experienced man. Can't say that I blame you. Even though I haven't met him I don't believe you could have picked anyone better." "Nanny! I'm just helping him. I'm not going to marry the guy." Nanny shook her head and sighed, "I'm afraid that would leave him very disappointed." I looked down on the table "Who cares." I complained of a head cold to my Aunt and Uncle that was sure to last for the next few days and I helped find Nanny a place to stay. I thought that someplace close by and spy free would be nice. So we went to Mr. Spickler's and apparently the pair knew each other. I sat in the living room as they talked about the good old days when ghosts tended to stay in their graves. "Really, Edger! I don't think that all is lost." "Of course you don't, Antoinette. You always believe that things can change." "I've seen it in the Cards, Edger. All will come to pass as I've foreseen it, no worries." "Ann, when will you learn that people are not so simple?" "Ah, but they can be. They just need the right circumstances and persuasion." Her voice paused, "and stop scowling. She will recognize the dangers and take responsibility for her past and his actions. She'll do fine." Mr. Spickler mumbled something about know-it-all witches before calling me into the kitchen. It was good to see Nanny staying with a friend. Finally the elders decided that it was time to make some game plans. Priority one was finding the skull and staying one step ahead of the preacher. "So how do we get the skull? It's still got to be around somewhere." I said. "True enough, Charlotte. Yes, it should still be here. Not in Sleepy Hollow but near. Perhaps in Tarrytown." Nanny said. I perked up and said excitedly "Someplace he can't go. Like the Catholic Church! It would be the last place he could get into." Nanny smiled and even Mr. Spickler seemed pleased "Exactly" she said "and you can go there tonight and look for it. It's perfect." I grinned I liked sneaky work; it made me feel really alive.  
  
It got dark earlier than usual and Nanny helped me get ready. I would ride my bike, it had obvious stealth and I didn't really have a car so it was a lot faster than walking. It wasn't far to the bridge and from there to the old Catholic church. I thanked heaven that people still trusted their neighbors as I slowly opened the unlocked front door. The sanctuary glowed with the light of many candles in the usual Catholic tradition. It was a beautiful place and I would have loved to just stare in awe but I was on a mission and didn't have time to wonder. I looked around the front columns, tapping on their sides every few inches. I didn't find anything, the columns were solid oak from what I could tell. I moved up to the front and started to look around the altar. It too was a solid construction. I turned to gaze upon the crucifix and Madonna behind the pulpit. They seemed to offer me support in my quest, which gave me some comfort. I sat down and studied them seeking inspiration. My eyes slowly trailed their way down to the solid oak paneling beneath the Madonna and her Son. It was beautiful wood with a cheery finish. I gently tapped it with my foot and was met with a very disappointing low thunk. I tapped again and again got the same hollow sound. Hollow! I leaned forward onto my knees and rapped on the panel. Yep, it was defiantly hollow. I took out a pocket knife and gently started to pry at the edges of the panel. It squeaked and started to wriggle free of the wall. I tugged on its edges and I finally gave to reveal a dark compartment filled with dust and cobwebs. I shined my flashlight on the inside and saw an old iron bound chest, pushed back in the wall. I carefully pulled it out and examined the lock. The lock, like the iron on the chest, was old and unexpectedly strong. I studied my pocket knife and found an appendage that could pick locks. In a few minuets I had the lock open and raised the lid on the chest. The hinges screeched in protest but I had it open and didn't care. Inside was a bundle of burlap and other rags. I peeled them away to reveal a large white skull. I turned it to face me and came face to face with the horseman for the first time. The empty eye sockets seemed to see right through me and the skeleton grin chilled me to the core. I carefully packed it into my backpack and returned the chest to where I had found it, closing the paneling for the second time in two hundred years. The teeth on the skull I was pleased to notice looked remarkably like the horseman's teeth in my dream. I left the church and rode back to the Hollow at breakneck speed. 


	13. fearful fog

Authors note: Hey y'all! Just a little note to my readers. This story is a real success and thank you for reading! Now don't get mad because it might take awhile before updates are posted. I believe in quality not quantity. Semester exams are coming up so this could take awhile! ( but hey there is good news! This is not the last of my Charlotte & Horseman fics *claps hand over mouth* whoops! I really, really, really was not supposed to tell y'all that! *thundering hoof beats* Uh-oh.uh, I, uh, have to be going. um, bye!  
  
The scenery whisked past me as I fairly flew threw downtown Sleepy Hollow, but that did not stop the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was being watched, no, worse, followed. Not by the horseman, either. That was what was so scary. I had gotten used to the horseman following me so that it didn't bother me, anymore. I sped around a corner. Maybe I could loose whoever was tailing me. Nanny had told me to meet her at the Hessian's grave before midnight. How she knew where it was was still a mystery. I blinked and tried to focus on the task at hand. It was less than half a mile to the cemetery and an unexplainable mist started to gather. It choked the streets and visibly spread around me, making the cityscape into something sinister. I turned another sharp corner into a pair of oncoming headlights. I have no doubt I looked an awful lot like a gold fish: huge eyed and openmouthed, before I was hit by the car. I bounced up onto the hood then rolled off just as quickly. I roughly hit the pavement then slowly pulled myself up. Remarkably, I was not hurt. I just had a slight ringing in my ears after the impact. The car had continued on threw the intersection and as I stood up I saw its break lights. Not good. I felt the joggle of the skull in my backpack as I got back on my bike. This time I made a strait line for the cemetery. The car made a u-turn and started to try and follow me. I silently thanked whoever had made the mist as it hid me from the car and I peddled on into the cemetery. I shakily left my bike on one of the gravel paths and started to the grave on foot. The trees had grown more dark and menacing than last time, if that was possible. They crowded around each other so that I almost began to wonder where one tree ended and another began. The fog was thinner in the woods, drifting in and around the gnarly tree branches like a specter. Further on I saw the beam of a flashlight. I greeted Nanny as I walked up to her. She smiled in return. "Do you have it?" "Right here" I said pulling the rather heavy item out of my backpack. "Good. I think we're ready to begin." Nanny said as she pulled out a small well worn book. She began to read out loud with great authority. I didn't understand most of it. Suddenly as if on cue, there was a loud crack of thunder just overhead and the Horseman himself leapt out of his grave on horseback ready, it seemed, for a fight. "Now, now Horseman. I would not have woken you had this not been important. Charlotte, if you please." I gingerly stepped forward with the skull cradled in my arms. The Horseman jumped from his steed anxious for the head. He reached for it but I backed away and held the skull all the tighter. I looked to Nanny for direction but she wasn't there! She had vanished. Now I was alone with the Hessian. Fearful, I tossed the skull to him. He caught it with ease and lifted it to his shoulders. It started to lightning like crazy. I watched, awestruck. There was a sickening popping sound as the spine reconnected. Veins and other connective tissue reached up from the base of the neck to cover the skull. The Horseman gripped at his collar and sounded as though he were choking. Soon there was a nose and a tongue and eyes. He fell to the ground, his back towards me. Which probably was for the best I decided. I was already fairly grossed out. The Horseman's form grew silent and he stood. He was taller now. He slowly turned to face me. I had to sit down at the sight of him. There stood the same exact man from my dream earlier in the day. The face, the eyes, everything was the same. His hair was not bound but hung loosely about his shoulders. It looked wild and unruly as far as hair went.  
  
The man himself wasn't much better. He stooped down in front of me and grinned wickedly. His teeth were white and very sharp looking. He raised my chin with his gloved hand. "Charlotte, my darling" he crooned. Darling? The touch was like an electric shock and before he could lower his lips to mine my right fist connected soundly with his jaw, sending him sprawling. I was up on my feet and storming out of the woods. He followed me at a distance all of the way to my house and kept back in the shadows were I couldn't see him. Smart man. I didn't even turn to look at him as I slammed the door and marched upstairs to my room.  
  
I got up at about two in the afternoon. My Aunt and Uncle had left on their usual business so I was alone. I was not in the least bit nervous; I had bigger fish to fry. I had a shower and got dressed. I wore blue jeans and a black low cut shirt to Mr. Spickler's. Nanny was there and I let her have it. I stormed up and down the house about her leaving me in the woods with that 200 year old blood thirsty German. Nanny only smiled and said, "I doubt it was blood he was thirsty for, dear" I could have slapped her. "Your not helping!" I cried. "Now dear. You need to calm down. He only wanted to talk, give him a chance to." "Fine! But if he pulls another stunt like that I will personally hand his corpse over to the reverend." Nanny just shook her head. I really could be quite stubborn. 


End file.
